


The Legend of the Blood Legion

by MelissaGT



Series: A Beautiful Tragedy [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Angst and Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, LLF Comment Project, Nexu, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Shake n' Bake, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-26 00:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13224189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelissaGT/pseuds/MelissaGT
Summary: This is just a collection of ficlets and Tumblr prompts that I wanted to keep all in one place. There's no particular order or organization and different characters and pairings may show up from work to work. All one-shots exist in the same universe, and I have added character names to the chapter headings for easy sorting.





	1. Comfort Food - Andronikos/Lelu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Microfic Prompt  
> Word - Comfort Food

“Aw, did my baby break her ass?” Andronikos tried with every fiber of his being to keep a straight face and not keel over with laughter. It just wasn’t working. He should have been concerned first…she could have been hurt. But it really wasn’t much of a fall.

One moment she’d been next to him, out on the terrace, and in the next, he’d heard a screech and she was down for the count, like right out of a rom-com holo. He chuckled, squatting down next to her in the fresh snowfall, and nearly lost it again when she looked up at him with the saddest big green puppy eyes he’d ever seen, a pout meant to melt hearts made of ice everywhere.

“Aw, so she broke her foot?” he asked, the only response he could summon when the pouty face directed him to the general vicinity of her foot.

“Sod. Off. You-” 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk…such language for a lady,” he mocked. “Are you going to call me a _wank-ah_ next?” He laughed, sure he was quite pitiful in reproducing her nasally clipped-off accent, but that was kind of the point.

“Don’t make me hurt you, pirate.”

“Oooh, is that a promise for later?” he challenged, hooking an arm under her knees. He lifted her into the air, tucked against his chest, careful to make sure he didn’t go down right beside her. The fresh powder that had fallen overnight certainly did add a bit of ‘slip’ to everything. As soon as he was sure his footing was solid, he grunted, shifting her in his arms for better grip, and began the perilous journey back to the sliding door and the warmth of the indoors.

Once they were safely back inside, he deposited her on the couch in front of the fire, stripped off his jacket, and went into the kitchen to make her a warm drink. Heated cream, molten chocolate, a dash of spice…it was easy to make, and he knew how much she loved it. He poured the mixture into a mug and topped it all off with three puffy marshmallows, then made his way back out to the sitting area where he’d left her.

In the span of the ten minutes or so he’d left her alone, she’d managed to shed her fur-trimmed jacket and both boots, all crumpled on the floor beside her feet. Typical. He shook his head ever so slightly, sighing to himself, more like chuckling to himself because he should have known better, and handed her the mug, kneeling in front of her to inspect her foot.

“You’re not having any?”

He leaned forward, grabbing her hand to tilt the mug to his lips. It was really tasty, but it wasn’t what he wanted. “Right now, you’re the only comfort food I want.”


	2. Hide - Shake n' Bake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Microfic Prompt  
> Word - Hide

Starlight shining through pines rustling in the breeze above. A scent on the air. People. Her people. Something else. Prey.

They can feel it coming for them. Frantic puffs of breath disappearing into the night. But death stalks in silence. Low to the ground. A shadow.

Hackles rise. Tail flicks. Body tenses for the rush.

A twig snaps. Snow crunching under feet with the plunge. Icy air filling her lungs.

They run from death. Eyes roll in fear. The one she wants, tired and old, falls behind.

A feral snarl. A pained cry as claws connect with the sweat-slathered hide.

The world stops, and they tumble to the ground together, predator and prey.

The scent of blood in the air. On her breath. In the snow around them. Steam wafting from the heat of the fresh kill.

The rest of the herd is long gone, leaving her swallowed again in silence.


	3. The Caraboose - Lana & Akori'ira

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lana meets a secret member of the Alliance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece was a response to the following Tumblr "rumor" prompt - 
> 
> "Rumor has it that Darth Akori'ira has a pet nexu."
> 
> It takes place roughly two years after the disappearance of Darth Nox, during the core founding of the Alliance.

Korriban, Sith Academy - Lana Beniko

Feeling the warmth of the ceramic mug seep into the palms of her hands, Lana settled back into the overstuffed armchair across from the all-but-named Director of the Sith Academy on Korriban. Well, one of them, at least. Her appointment had been to meet with both of the Alliance agents, not just one. But, Cytharat had been called upon to settle a rather deadly dispute between acolytes. Some things never changed, it seemed.

She allowed her eyes to take in her surroundings – the mismatched furnishings, the mishmash of artwork gracing the walls, the two desks set back to back...one perfectly ordered, the other a perfectly ordered mess. Everything that spoke of two complete opposites being stuck together. Yet somehow, it worked. Lord Cytharat and the Wrath were quite the team. They played 'Good Cop, Bad Cop' like professionals. They got results, and they got things done. 

She sipped her tea in silence, regarding the tightly wound woman before her. One knee bouncing over the other, a sheathed sword aching to be drawn. The Twi'lek may have hated being forced to sit idle, impotent and useless, or so she called it, but she certainly had a way of motivating people into action. And Cytharat played off of her more 'extreme' nature perfectly. It was the perfect cover. Rebuild the might of the sacred institution of the Sith, and recruit for the Alliance on the side.

“Have you identified any more promising new pros-” Lana's words caught in her throat mid-sentence as she felt a cold, wet  _something_  graze over the side of her hand. She looked to her left, nearly jumping out of her skin (which by her standards meant a slight widening of the eye...perhaps an arch of the brow...certainly nothing that would actually give away her surprise) at the sight of a very large, very hungry-looking nexu smiling at her. “Oh, hello there,” she stated, as if the concept of having a nexu snuffling at one's shoulder was the most normal of occurrences in the galaxy. “I'd heard rumors that you'd taken on a new friend, Lord Wrath.”

“Oh, Shake n' Bake?” At the sound of her voice, the nexu let out a lumbering chuffle and promptly trotted-paced-stalked the few steps over to sniff at the Wrath's shoulder. Nudging a giant clawed paw off of the arm of her chair, the Twi'lek had to lean to the side to see around the feline's imposing frame.

“Shake n' Ba-?”

“Don't. Ask.” The Twi'lek shook with laughter, her amusement clear as day as she took in the sight of Lana's rather righteous version of a quirked eyebrow. “But no, she's not mine. This...this is Nik's baby,” she added, giving the thickly muscled cream-colored hide a series of patting slaps with the palm of her hand.

At that point, the over-sized tooka took it upon herself to try and climb into the Twi'lek's lap, which did not work. Letting out a surprised screech at being stepped on, Lord Akori'ira rather unceremoniously grabbed at the nexu's jewel-encrusted collar and directed her off of the chair, pushing a hand firmly against the animal's rump to prompt her to sit down.

“C'mon,  _Bacon_ , you're acting like a spoiled brat,” she scolded.

Lana had to hide the curl of her smile with a sip of tea, thoroughly amused at the scene before her. Here was the Empire's Wrath (or should it now be changed to the Alliance's Wrath, even though it didn't have the same menacing ring to it), a woman who was well known for her short span of patience, coddling a three hundred pound house cat like a child.

“So how exactly did our nefarious pirate associate end up with...” Seeing that Shake n' Bake (that was simply ridiculous, but whatever, she could do for a laugh) had finally settled down on the floor, lolling a very large head up against the Twi'lek's calf, she let her words trail off, and instead finished her sentence with a wave of her wrist in the animal's general direction. Nexu were not exactly known for their friendly natures, and were generally best left alone in the wild.

“Well, to hear him tell it, he's had  _Bacon_  for a long time...since she was just a cub,” she began. The Wrath let an arm hang off over the arm of the chair and idly stroked at the bristly fur at the top of the animal's head. “Back when they were on Taris for the first time, him and Nox...” she shifted in her seat, her restlessness getting the better of her momentarily, “they came across a long-dead female, caught in a trap. Her mother...” Bending to the side slightly, she looked down to see that the feline was now engrossed in the process of washing her two giant-sized front paws. “From what he said,  _Bacon_  was half-frozen, three-quarters starved, completely covered in parasites, and probably wouldn't have made it another night on her own.”

Leaning back in her chair, Lana took another sip of her tea, legs idly crossed in front of her. “She's still a wild animal though...”

“Oh yes, she has to run. A lot. And hunt. Otherwise, she gets too difficult to handle.”

“They couldn't possibly have kept her on the ship for long.”

“No, she was on Dromund Kaas, and then when Nik bought the estate on Alderaan, he had her moved there. Plenty of room to run and nobody for miles except for herds of deer and nerf to hunt.” She chuckled through her nose, her single lavender eye staring off at some distant spot well below the stone floor. “I bet he bought that land just as much for caraboose here, as he did for Nox. He's a sack of mush when it comes to his girls...don't let anybody tell you different.” Her gaze came back to focus and she looked Lana right in the eye, a grin tugging at the side of her lip. “Don't tell him I said that, though,” she laughed.

 _His Girls_. Lana had to hand it to Andronikos, if it wasn't for his incessant hounding about Darth Nox's definitely-not-dead disappearance, the Alliance would have gotten off to a much different start, or perhaps not at all. From the pirate himself, to the Wrath herself...along with the Wrath's twin sister (who was currently on Tython seeking out candidates from the other side of the galaxy), to Cytharat, and even Theron Shan...and all of the contacts they brought with them...they were all there because of one person who was hidden away, unreachable and likely frozen in carbonite. All but dead.

Lana had worked with Darth Nox for a time, though she felt that she'd never really gotten to know the woman. Know  _of_  her yes, but she'd never been allowed into the Inner Circle in the same way that others had. They'd never fully trusted each other (which she grudgingly had to admit was probably Theron's fault, in part). Perhaps it was for the best...someone had to stay objective and practical about matters. And practicality dictated that one person could hardly seem worthy of such trouble. Surely they could find someone else to put up as a figurehead for their little underground operation.

But, the person she would have chosen to lead, the person who would have kept the Empire together without the need to form a separate faction, was dead. Darth Marr's death had left the Empire crippled by a power vacuum. And Sith did as Sith always do...they fought amongst themselves, rather than focusing on the true threat – the Eternal Empire.

If they couldn't have the man himself leading the vanguard, then they could at least have the woman he personally groomed to lead. The loyalty that Darth Nox inspired in those who chose to share their lives with her...that was what they needed.

“That's not like you, Beniko...”

“Hmm?” Lana murmured under her breath. “I apologize, Lord Wrath, it just got me thinking...”

Shake n' Bake suddenly sat up on her haunches, poised as if she'd heard a very interesting noise off in the distance. She made a snuffling chuffle again, her split, hairless tail swishing back and forth on the floor behind her, then started to lap at the white fingers dangling by her face.

“It's easy to forget that we weren't the only ones uprooted by this...turn of events,” she mused. Grimacing, the Twi'lek pulled her fingers away from the slobber and promptly wiped them dry on the side of the chair. “Nik told me that Nox used to joke around about  _Bacon_  being a total daddy's girl, but ever since she disappeared, the caraboose has needed extra attention. It's been a couple years now, but she still knows something is up.”

Lana leaned forward to help herself to a second cup of tea, yet another hint of a smile pulling at her face when she thought for a moment about the seeming miracle that the table and tea service it bore hadn't gone crashing to the floor from the nexu's meandering. “Is that why she's here with you, then?” she asked, with no lack of curiosity on how the beast got on with all of the acolytes...or if there had been any  _accidents_ since her arrival.

“While Nik and Theron are off playing Find the Spy, or Hunt the Spy, or whatever Spy Stuff they've been up to? Yes. For whatever reason, she seems to like me,” she chuckled. “Who would have thought those two would have ended up thick as thieves?”

No doubt it  _was_  a surprising turn of events, considering Lana had been present the first time the two men had laid eyes on each other...with Nox standing in between them waiting for all hell to break loose.

If looks could kill...well, for the Force-blind at least.

“And the acolytes...there haven't been any...?”

The Wrath laughed, leaning over to slap-pat Shake n' Bake's side again. “They know she's off-limits,” she responded, shifting in her seat so that she could reach to scratch at the base of her tail, apparently a much-loved rub spot, if the beast's grumbling purr was any indicator. “She gets her daily run down in the lower wilds...harasses the tuk'ata. Drives Lord Renning crazy. And if she takes a liking to any particular acolyte? Well, those are the ones we send to you.”

“That's quite an interesting selection process...”

“Isn't it though?”


	4. Thunderstruck - Andronikos/Lelu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andronikos may have met his match. This is where it all started...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As part of the Tumblr prompt - "Things you Said"
> 
> Things You Said Under Your Breath
> 
> "Thunderstruck"  
> AC/DC
> 
> I was caught  
> In the middle of a railroad track (thunder)  
> I looked round  
> And I knew there was no turning back (thunder)  
> My mind raced  
> And I thought what could I do (thunder)  
> And I knew  
> There was no help, no help from you (thunder)  
> Sound of the drums  
> Beating in my heart  
> The thunder of guns  
> Tore me apart  
> You've been  
> Thunderstruck
> 
> Rode down the highway  
> Broke the limit, we hit the town  
> Went through to Texas, yeah Texas, and we had some fun  
> We met some girls  
> Some dancers who gave a good time  
> Broke all the rules  
> Played all the fools  
> Yeah yeah they, they, they blew our minds  
> And I was shaking at the knees  
> Could I come again please  
> Yeah them ladies were too kind  
> You've been  
> Thunderstruck
> 
> I was shaking at the knees  
> Could I come again please

Tatooine, The Dune Sea - Andronikos

Andronikos watched the delicate lines of the Sith’s throat rise and fall as she swallowed down gulp after gulp of water. His water. That bitch had grabbed the canteen out of his hands like she had every right to. He’d planned to offer…he knew how to treat a lady, but she hadn’t even given him the chance. If she saw it, and she wanted it, then apparently it was hers.

That was supposed to be his deal. _He_ was the fucking pirate. _He_ was the one who took things that weren’t his…

Well, fuck her. Fuck her and the speeder she rode in on.    

But that throat. It was mesmerizing. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. She was entirely too busy to notice, but he was staring at her like a manka cat on the hunt, suddenly caught in a very bright set of headlights…like a half-starved, dumbstruck fool. Like he’d never seen a woman drinking from a canteen before. Or a woman’s exposed throat, teasing him in every way imaginable.

It was the only part of her body he could see…apart from her face. From head to toe she was shrouded in a dust-riddled swath of light-colored fabric, meant to protect her from the overbearingly hot sun and stinging sand. They were in the middle of the desert. Sun and sand was a fact of life on Tatooine.

But when Kallig had showed up in his private rooms at the Siltshift, as if she owned the place (of course), she’d been dressed like she was going to a strip club. Or had just come from a strip club. And he’d laughed his ass off. She wouldn’t have lasted five minutes. Not dressed like that. Not without his help. The sun alone would have fried that skin to a crisp in no time. Green eyes. Red hair. Skin so pale it was practically translucent…it was like she was born to burn.

She was young…a good deal younger than he was if he guessed right. And she was green. People, he knew…he may have disliked them in general, but he could read them, and it wasn’t difficult to get a bead on her. She hadn’t seen much of the galaxy at all in her twenty-some-odd years. No matter how much she tried to hide it behind that unwavering my-shit-don’t-stink front she worked so hard to put up.

But even behind that snowy disguise, one he saw right through, she wasn’t shy. Not by a mile. He’d learned that the first night they’d spent out there in the massive nothingness of the Dune Sea. Huddled together for warmth. Sure. Talk about blue balls…and it wasn’t from the cold. Whatever game she was playing at…it was his sort indeed.

Delayed Gratification. The Long Con.

That was his game…and she was playing with a master.

He watched her lower the canteen from her lips. Saw how the light glittered across the loose droplets that were left behind to fall to her chin. It was an overbearingly bright light, shining through the open doorway of a hut in the middle of an outlying Tusken raiding camp. A camp they’d just swept through in search of a lost artifact he’d agreed to help her find.

Tusken Raiders were never cooperative with outsiders. Diplomacy was a waste - it seemed they only ever understood one language, and two of them laid slumped over at her feet where she’d struck them down. They’d put up a fight, but it had been quick. She didn’t waste time. And there hadn’t been any pleasure in it from what he could tell…not like before, when they’d tracked down that traitorous twatwaffle Wilkes. She’d had a slightly to the left of crazed look about her then. Something that told him she’d reveled in that kill. Even if it was his kill.

But in this case, all they needed was the artifact. The Raiders had just been in the way.

They smelled vile. Everything about that place smelled vile. And yet, despite that rather odiferous fact, he was too busy obsessing over the way the fucking light reflected just so off her moistened lips to even care. Like a mother-kriffing poet.

She pawed the back of a gloved hand across her mouth, stopping mid-swipe. She’d caught him…and she knew it.

“You aren’t afraid of me…”

Those eyes. They saw right through him, just as well as he saw through all her bullshit. It wasn’t a question - it was an observation. She’d stated the obvious and was waiting for his reaction, weighing and measuring him on whatever fucked up Sithy scale she used in her head. Well, challenge received. And challenge accepted. More than accepted.

“Should I be?”

What the fuck was he doing? He was out of his ever-loving mind! Was any amount of delayed gratification, not to mention the hope of untold amounts of righteous fucking, worth this much risk?

Fuck. Yes. He just had to stand his ground.  

_Oh, I do so love to play with fire…dangerous women…yes, please…_

But a Sith? He _hated_ Imperials. And she wasn’t just any Imperial. That holier-than-thou accent…the one that made even a simple comment about the weather sound like it was dripping with disdain…that meant only one thing. Dromund Kaas. The Cream of the Empire.

But…there was something about her…and it wasn’t the fact that he could bounce a credit chip off her ass. He’d hooked up with other crazies for much less, but this was different.

It was something that made his hackles rise. Set his teeth on edge. Something that brought out the worst in him. And the best. All at the same time. She was…different. How, he wasn’t sure, but she was. Maybe it was how she carried herself. Or how she seemed…put off by the grunts falling all over themselves, and each other, right into a giant pile of idiocy at that last Imperial base. She wasn’t used to the attention. Almost as if she wasn’t born into it. Not to mention those scars. Ritual Sithification? Or something else entirely…

He couldn’t quite figure out if he wanted to know everything or nothing about her. And he liked it. Come to think of it, ‘like’ wasn’t even the right word to describe it.

She stepped over the bodies at her feet, one soft, leather-booted foot at a time, and swaggered toward him in a purposefully overt manner, one he was sure was meant to remind him, quite painfully, of the curves hidden so well beneath her loose, desert attire. Curves he’d had his hands all over just the night before. Hands and nothing else. Well, nothing else that mattered in any way he’d wanted it to matter.

His eyes followed each and every step, every swagger and sway until she stood before him, waiting for him to roll over and submit like every other frightened piece of meat she encountered. It didn’t matter that the top of her head just barely reached the underside of his chin, or that she was small enough to imagine easily throwing over one shoulder like a sack to be carried off…elsewhere (which was not a good picture to have in his head right at that moment). For all of it, those green eyes might as well have been on level with his.

It was a stare-down of the ages. A test he knew he had to pass or he’d risk losing her respect forever, and for whatever reason, that was the last thing he wanted. He was the guy who rightfully didn’t give a flying fig what other people thought about him, but oddly enough, he found himself actually wanting her respect. He felt like he needed it.

If he were to falter or look away, he was done. It was a good thing, then, that he was a thrill-seeking fool who was too much of a cocky bastard for his own good. No man in his right mind would have lasted long under that level of heat without squirming. But, he didn’t know when to quit…he never did, and he never would…and that was the way he lived his life. The day that changed would be the day he died.

The seconds ticked by into what seemed like minutes with them locked in silent battle. She was amused, he could tell that at least. The scar tugging at the side of her lip quirked her mouth into a lop-sided smile, an almost predatory grin that might have been enough to unnerve a lesser man, but it only served to strengthen his resolve. She was barking up the wrong tree if she thought that was going to do him in – he could stare at that smile for days.

A gust of sand-riddled wind blew outside the hut, carrying the bone-chilling battle cries of another Raider to their ears, but neither appeared to notice. Or care. Moments later there was a bang right outside, the sound of something rifling through the supply packs lashed to the two second-hand speeders Kallig had bought before they set out from Mos Ila two days prior.

She cocked her head, listening, and then broke his gaze for a quick glance to the open doorway of the hut. Their little game of chicken, it seemed, had come to an end.

“I like you, Nik…” she laughed, as if there wasn’t the very real threat of battle right around the corner, or perhaps because of it. “I think we’re going to get on just fine.” She reached up and ran a pair of gloved fingers down the side of his face, that grin turning from predatory to quite pleased, teeth and all, and then covered it up, much to his dismay, with the protective swath of fabric that hung from the neckline of her robe.

The shroud wrapped around her head, leaving only her green eyes exposed. But they weren’t just green, he noticed, and not for the first time. As the light caught them, it was like looking into a pool in the ocean, one where the water was so clear you could see bits of the sun shining through it, almost dancing in the current. And when she turned away, the smile he knew she still wore reaching even those calculating emerald depths, he was left wanting more. So much more. Anything. Everything.

 _Nik_ , huh? That was a new one.

He laughed to himself, hearing the thrumming hiss of her saberstaff whine through the air just on the other side of the wall, quickly followed by a blood-curdling screech cut short in a throat that no longer drew breath.

“You’re in for one-hell-of-a-ride…” he muttered to himself, unable to hide the grin that split his face. The two dead Raiders gazed blankly up at him, nodding in agreement, or so he imagined in an overly morbid way. He could only guess at what they looked like under those odd, goggled masks…they could have been human for all he knew, but he wasn’t about to ruin the moment, or his sense of smell, by finding out. Someday, maybe.

Thoroughly amused with his private version of an inside joke, he nodded a snide good-bye to the less-than-interested friends he shared it with, and stepped over the bodies, paying them no further mind. Things had gone decidedly quiet, almost awkwardly so, and he covered his own face, readying himself for the blinding light and ever-present blowing grit of the world outside.  

“Did you say something, _darling_?” A tossed canteen nearly clocked him in the head as he stood up, blinking himself out of the small doorway cut into the side of the leather-covered hut. He managed to catch it, rather ungracefully, which may have involved some minor flailing about of arms to avoid it landing in the dirt at his feet...but he _did_ catch it, and he felt he could give himself another small win.

Not to mention the weight of it in his hands confirmed one more thing – it was full.

Of all the...that right there was enough to make him want to burst out laughing like a positive loon. He'd gotten himself so worked up over that damned stolen water, and now it appeared that had been part of their little game all along.

He also hadn’t missed that little dig. _Darling_. The way it rolled off her tongue, even though he couldn’t see her mouth form the word. One hell of a ride indeed…like a vicious roller coaster that left you going back for more and more punishment until you lost your lunch.

He was a glutton for punishment. And he _never_ lost his lunch.

“You’re not like any Sith I’ve ever met,” he chuckled, twisting the metal cap loose in his fingers.

“Oh? And how many Sith have you met?” She watched him down a few swigs of the warm liquid, leaning back against one of the speeders as she waited patiently for his response. He was in no hurry.

“Enough.” A slight shrug of the shoulders was all the answer she was going to get. In reality, he hadn’t met many Sith. But for the most part, even one was enough to leave a bad taste in his mouth. Almost as bad as the stale water from the canteen. 

“Well…you’ll just have to find out, then. But you might be right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors.  
> This author invites:
> 
> Short comments  
> Long comments  
> Questions  
> Constructive criticism  
> “<3” as extra kudos  
> Reader-reader interaction
> 
> This author replies to comments.


	5. The Mystic's Dream - Scourge/Raz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Less than one year after the death of the True Voice, Raz and Scourge visit Voss, hoping for a cure...but get more than they bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Mystic's Dream"  
> Loreena McKennitt
> 
> A clouded dream on an earthly night  
> Hangs upon the crescent moon  
> A voiceless song in an ageless light  
> Sings at the coming dawn  
> Birds in flight are calling there  
> Where the heart moves the stones  
> It's there that my heart is longing for  
> All for the love of you
> 
> A painting hangs on an ivy wall  
> Nestled in the emerald moss  
> Eyes declare a truce of trust  
> And then it draws me far away  
> Where deep in the desert twilight  
> Sand melts in pools of the sky  
> Darkness lays her crimson cloak  
> Your lamps will call, call me home
> 
> And so it's there my homage's due  
> Clutched by the still of the night  
> And now I feel, feel you move  
> And every breath is full  
> So it's there my homage's due  
> Clutched by the still of the night  
> Even the distance feels so near  
> All for the love of you
> 
> A clouded dream on an earthly night  
> Hangs upon the crescent moon  
> A voiceless song in an ageless light  
> Sings at the coming dawn  
> Birds in flight are calling there  
> Where the heart moves the stones  
> It's there that my heart is longing for  
> All for the love of you

Voss, The Shrine of Healing – Razi’ilziveri

“I am sorry, Jedi. He is beyond our reach.”

The Mystic’s words echoed throughout the darkened chamber with a ring of finality that felt like a weight pulling at her ankles…one that tugged her forcibly away from the setting sun as it flickered above the surface of a shimmering pool of water. Away from the light, and away from the last shreds of hope she’d held close to her heart. She couldn’t breathe, and the bit of air still in her lungs escaped through a silent sigh of defeat.

An eternity must have passed with her standing there in stunned silence, but when Raz allowed her vision to refocus, she found herself still held within the gaze of several expectant Voss Mystics. They were waiting for a response. From her. From the Sith who knelt within their circle, the man who had always been an example of unflappable resolve to her, only now his wide shoulders slumped beneath their invisible burden. It was as if all of his strength had seeped away, leaving behind…nothing.

She stepped forward, hesitantly at first, and reached a hand out to clutch at Scourge’s shoulder. It was a gesture of comfort, for him or for her she wasn’t sure. They both needed it. They’d been so sure this time.

The large Pureblood flinched at her touch, but when she squeezed tighter, bunching her fingers through the light linen set in geometric blues and whites the Voss had given them, he leaned into her side ever so slightly. It was the only acknowledgement she’d get that he knew it was her who had reached out.

“So, there’s no hope then?” Raz asked, sweeping her gaze over the healers, looking for any hint or scrap of hesitation in their eerily glowing eyes. They were a universal front, not unkind in their mannerisms, but still held apart from the alien visitors. Almost cold. Aloof.

“In essence, his mind has been disconnected, and his body remains frozen, locked in time.” Looking to her counterparts, the Mystic who spoke up waited for several nods of agreement before continuing, her glowing blue eyes softening as if preparing for a killing blow that was sure to come. “It cannot be undone.”

Scourge flinched again, and Raz grabbed at his other shoulder, her knuckles turning first pink and then a paler shade of white as they squeezed into the heavily corded muscles on either side. He needed to know she was there, and with him light touches meant nothing. Every fiber of her being screamed for him to feel her strength, to reach out to her through the Force, but he remained tightly closed off. An immovable wall made of the thickest durasteel.

Having completed their sense of obligation, the Voss began to shuffle off, leaving them wrapped up together in a spiraling bubble of despair. Raz couldn’t help feeling bitter, but it wasn’t their fault. The Voss were cold toward outsiders, and rightfully so, but they never turned away a person in need. And they were the best. Not to mention their last resort. If it could have been done, they would have spoken the price, and she would have given it, gladly. Life for life.

“Moqhoit…”

“No… _leave me_ …” His voice was barely above a whisper, and it would brook no argument.

Raz relented, giving him the space he required. For now. She paced back and forth nearby, absent-mindedly chewing away at a thumbnail as she watched the man before her fall into a sitting position on the floor. She could feel her lekku twitching in silent rhythm behind her, the tips grazing at the curve of her backside one at a time. The more agitated she got, the more they twitched.

“Young one…”

Startled, and not just a little embarrassed at being caught like a child with her thumb between her teeth, Raz spun to find Valen-Da watching her with an almost amused expression on his face. The old Mystic was one of the most respected at the Shrine, on all of Voss really, and he was her friend. She and Scourge had saved his life during their first visit, brokering a sense of peace and tenuous trust between them. The Voss did not like the Jedi, or the Sith for that matter…but he did like them.

“Thank you for pulling some strings for us. I know the healers wouldn’t have turned us away but…”

“There is no need for thanks, my friend. You will always be welcome here. But I must admit that the nature of your visit was foreseen.” Valen-Da’s soft smile fell, and Raz had to force herself to realize that he was telling her they knew ahead of time there would be no help for Scourge. Not on Voss, at least. Perhaps not anywhere. “I have had a vision,” he continued, “and it affects us all, not only Voss. Your presence here is only a small part.”

More visions. Always with the visions.

Raz sighed, doing her best to keep it to herself, and spared a quick glance behind her. Scourge appeared to be deep in meditation, paying them no mind. For a moment, she considered trying to get his attention, but thought better of it. She could always tell him later, if it was something that mattered. She’d been the object of Voss visions in the past, and in truth, they always felt a bit like silly mystical hoo-ha over a whole lot of nothing. To her, at least.  

“I suppose I have no choice, then,” she laughed, waving a hand flippantly through the air to help give herself a false sense of security. Humor had always been her method at fighting against anything having to do with fate or other such spiritual crap, as she liked to call it. And Scourge hated it. He was all about giving and receiving respect wherever it was deserved, and he had the utmost respect for the Voss and their unique outlook on the Force.

“Very well,” Valen-Da nodded. “I will tell you of what I saw, and of what the Interpreters have agreed upon. Visions involving outsiders are rare, but I fear they will become more common in the times to come.”

As the weight of the Mystic’s words sunk in, Raz felt herself taking an involuntary step backwards, opening up the distance between them while also moving herself closer to the Sith behind her. Again, she wasn’t sure if it was for her own comfort, or for his. He still hadn’t moved, but she had to wonder if he wasn’t listening to every word anyways. 

“I dreamt of a dragon, young one…a great serpent who hungers without end. It seeks to consume all, but it will never be enough.” Valen-Da paused, his eyes roving between them, Jedi to Sith, and behind her, Raz felt Scourge’s attention snap like a bolt of lightning. She didn’t need to touch him to tell that his back had gone rigid. That dragon sounded an awful lot like someone they both knew very well. Someone who was supposed to be dead. “I saw a phoenix emerge from the crucible of war,” he continued, “…a breaker of chains, twice born of a mother’s love, onl- “

“ _Wait_ …twice? How is- “

“ _Let the man finish, Jidai!_ ” the Sith scolded, his silky-smooth words veiled with a level of irritation that always felt like he was reining in a less-than-favored student. He gathered his large legs beneath him and pushed himself to his feet, towering over her in every sense of the word. Red eyes narrowed down at her, zeroing in on her impatience, and Raz shook her head in silent defiance, receiving an equally icy scowl in return.

He knew her all too well. And apparently, he had been listening all along.

Valen-Da shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Waiting. Watching the exchange between Sith and Jedi with curiosity. One had to wonder the thoughts going through the Mystic’s head over the odd pairing. During their first visit, almost two years ago, they’d held a fragile, and rather strained alliance…but now…

So much had changed. She’d changed. For years, she’d been at war with herself, divided like a piece of meat caught between the teeth of two hungry akk dogs…choose to be a slave to The Code, or choose to follow her own path and face open ridicule and eventual exile. Her time spent under the thrall of the Sith Emperor only made it more apparent that she was different, a blight upon The Order. An outcast. Barely tolerated only for her skill with a lightsaber.

But Scourge had accepted her for who she wanted to be, who she needed to be, and gave her the strength to fight for it. Something The Order had never been able to do. 

She nodded ever so slightly, and his expression softened, if only a little. It would have been almost imperceptible to anyone else, but for her, and only her, it might as well have been a smile. A grim smile, given the news they’d just received regarding his condition. But it was still there. For him? For her? Both? Only he knew. 

“I’m sorry, Valen-Da…please continue.”

The Voss huffed, if one so formal as a Voss Mystic could be imagined to huff, and held up a hand, waving away any concern of her given offence. The older man had learned years ago of her skepticism, as well as her inherent lack of patience, and had taken it on as a personal challenge of sorts to convince her otherwise in the short time her knew her.

As if that would ever happen.

“I saw a phoenix emerge from the crucible of war…a breaker of chains, twice born of a mother’s love, only to be lost in shadow.” Glowing orange eyes grew heavy, taking in both Jedi and Sith as they stood side by side. Equals. “Fires burn, then fade away to ash. Pale shades of grey paint entire worlds that live and die and wait, all waiting with bated breath for the rains to come. All clinging to a single flicker of hope.”

A shiver ran down her spine as the Mystic paused to take a breath, one strong enough to make her shoulders itch, as if icy water had been splashed down over her back. Beside her, Raz could feel the Pureblood’s presence. Dark. Unending. A comfort she had come to depend on, and she had to stop herself from reaching out and touching the hand that was only inches away.

War. Valen-Da had seen it. But what did it have to do with her? Or Scourge for that matter?

“I watched as the phoenix rose once again from the ashes of conflict,” he continued, almost in a chant, his voice rising along with the impact of his words. “I watched as it brought with it a promise of new life, and a new beginning…a shining beacon for all…even you, Sith.” Valen-Da narrowed his gaze at the much taller man, and despite the height difference, somehow managed to appear even taller, so much so that Raz felt Scourge hesitate beside her. “And finally, I watched as it was chased straight out of the void by the fires of that same dragon.”

“Is that everything?” Scourge asked...as if it wasn’t enough. More than enough. Too much. The silence in the chamber was heavy, choking the air around them.

“That is what I saw. The Interpreters could only agree upon two threads. The first is a certainty. Voss will burn with the rest. We cannot stand apart forever.”

“And the second?”

“Your fate is tied to that of another.”

“The dragon or the phoenix?” Scourge shifted on his feet, his back shot rigid once again, and all Raz could do was watch his expression harden in deep thought. He was angry. And growing angrier by the second.

“We do not know. But that which was broken will be whole again.”

\---------------

Raz had to shield her eyes as she followed Scourge out into the bright afternoon sun. It felt like they’d been inside the darkened halls for ages, however the sun was still high in the sky when they finally emerged, beating down at them like a most unwelcome voyeur.

Numerous Voss clustered around the Shrine’s entrance…guards and pilgrims, those seeking entrance, even the occasional healer enjoying the cool breeze, however the Sith took no notice. He passed them all by unhindered, his eyes set upon only one goal, the open and empty space nearby. A place to think. A place to be alone.

Unsure if that included her, Raz took a chance and followed his stilted pace out into the sea of knee-high grass, watching it part around his wide body with each step like the prow of a great ship. Valen-Da’s vision had thrown them both for a loop. War wasn’t a surprise, but the rest? She had no idea what it all could possibly have meant. But that last bit…

“Moqhoit… _stop!”_

She was the only other person in the galaxy who knew that name, and he had to have heard her call it. But instead of slowing, he picked up his stride with an almost renewed fervor. His shoulders rolled forward, set with stubborn determination underneath the flowing swaths of blue and white fabric, and his body language did everything possible to tell her not to follow.

But, he really should have learned by then that Raz was not one to listen.

The name rang out again, almost wafting in the air between them, shared only with a curious herd of doe-eyed uxibeasts as they lazily cropped at the brown grasses nearby. Anyone else would have thought twice, three times or even four…and would have let the powerful Sith be. The Wrath was a symbol to be feared by all but the Emperor himself, but Raz only saw the man beneath, and that man was all but running away. Away from her.

This had happened before, any time they started to get close. It was glaringly obvious there was something between them…more than just _something_ , if she was being honest. Scourge may not have been a fountain of emotions, but he still had them...hidden, buried deep down beneath the ice of a very long winter. She knew he felt it too. Somewhere in there.

He was…

…and she was…

…and if they never found a cure, she would still…

Kriffing shit, why would the words not come? 

She trotted ahead in his wake without hesitation, pushing onward, past the lack of words and any lingering doubts of continued pursuit, and somewhere near the tree line, finally caught up with him at the top of a small knoll. He'd found the perfect refuge. Dark branches hung low overhead, shading them from the invading afternoon sun. Several uxibeasts grazed in close proximity, no longer paying them any mind as they happily munched away on their cud. The sound of leaves rustling lightly on the breeze permeated the space, giving a sense of stillness and calm.

Well, what should have been stillness and calm.

Raz approached slowly, watching him warily for any change in body language. Nothing. He knew she was there. She hadn’t exactly been quiet about it. There was a tension in the air, and she focused on the rustling of the leaves, the smells of nature above and below, on all sides...the way the span of his shoulders rose and fell with each breath as she closed the distance between them.

Gathering every ounce of strength and confidence she could muster, she projected it outward and around herself, hoping Scourge would sense it. If he was even looking. White fingers massaged at his shoulder, working a soothing balm of reassurance and good, old-fashioned touch through to the muscles beneath, growing bolder with each heavy-handed pass. She took in a deep draught of cool air, wanting nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and hold him, matching her own breaths to his, but that would have overstepped any level of intimacy they’d reached thus far. It was difficult to see where to draw the line with someone who couldn’t exactly feel everything the same way you did. Especially when that someone was a Sith.

But sometimes you just had to throw caution to the wind and make a roll of the dice. 

It really was the truth, all gambling analogies aside. There was no way of knowing how he'd react, she just had to take the bet and hope for the best. But before she even had a chance to try and firm up that fuzzy little line, she felt it. In the air. Through the Force. Under her fingertips. Rolling in like the gathering of a perfect storm with no warning. A perfect storm of anger. And fear. 

 _“Medzi’oksh nun!”_ Shoving her bodily away, Scourge whirled around to face her, his voice booming through the branches above. “Why do you persist?!?”

“Because I love you, you big, red idiot!”

Oh, fuck. She was a child who had just dropped the biggest colorful metaphor of all time...one who had gotten very much caught in the process. The declaration had come completely out of left field, pushed right out of her mouth by his less-than-gentle shove, and a hand shot up to her wide-open maw out of reflex. 

Scourge didn't really fare any better. It took a moment, but when the words finally sunk in, the Sith's jaw fell open, his face contorting into a rather comical, almost fish-like pucker as his mouth first opened and closed, and then opened again with each desperate play for breath. It was a look that did not suit him. Not in the least. He'd been ambushed, likely a first for the former Wrath, and was at a complete loss for any sort of reaction.

Had she meant it? Yes! A thousand times, yes, there was no doubt about it. She’d just imagined it all playing out differently. And perhaps a bit more gracefully. 

Swallowing down her embarrassment (along with a healthy dash of pride), Raz willed herself to pull her hand away from her mouth and breathe. In. Out. In. Out. It was all in the open now. There was no taking it back. Which…actually was kind of a relief. Sort of. But, it gave her the strength she needed to put one foot in front of the other, closing the gap between them once again. 

Scourge still looked like he’d been slapped across the face with a dirty broom. It was almost enough to make her giggle right there under that tree, and she had to bite at her lower lip to keep it under control. It was time to make another move. Do or die.  

Her hand reached up and out a second time, fingers curling slowly through the air until they connected with the side of his face. The touch was feather-light, cautious, as if she was expecting the worst, which she very well might have been. She was redefining that fine line again, a line now just as sharp as the contours of his cheekbone.

Thankfully, and much to her surprise (quite pleased surprise), it broke whatever feedback loop it was he’d been trapped in, and she watched as his crimson-colored eyes refocused…and then began to slide shut. The pads of her fingers traced over the inherent features of his species, from hard to soft and back again, threading right past the pointed tips of his brow. Time slowed to a halt around them, leaving everything else to fall away, forgotten. The trees. The grass. The sky. War. Prophesy. They were, for a few precious moments, completely alone in the galaxy...and a short intake of breath caught in her throat and died with everything else when a large, and very red hand slipped over hers, capturing it against his skin.

“I…I do love you…” she whispered, balling the other hand into a tight fist at her side to keep it from doing anything stupid.

The sound of a throaty snort from somewhere behind shattered the tenuous silence, and she jumped in surprise, even though it only took a split second to remember they had a rather furry audience. It was barely a flinch.

But it was enough.

The Sith’s eyes shot open, his fingers constricting over hers to the point of pain as he yanked them away. “You cannot!!!” he screeched. All sense of grace and formality lost, he flung his arms out wide and turned on his heels, not giving her any time for a proper reaction to the figurative gut-punch before storming off again, this time back down the grassy knoll, his rage scattering the hoofed beasts around them into a nervous frenzy.  

“Well…ffffuck you! FUCK. YOU. SIDEWAYS!” Her lekku instinctively curled around her shoulders, one on each side, wrapping her in an embrace where she stood. He’d left her with the high ground, and she was going to use it. Which, obviously, was not to be confused with the high road. “I’m not some slave on Dromund Kaas you can order around as you please! Or would you prefer I wore a shiny bell collar with your name on it?!?”

And there went her mouth…something that always got her into trouble pretty much everywhere. That might have been hitting a bit below the belt. Yup, instant regret. 

Scourge stopped in his tracks halfway down the hill, his gigantic fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. If only she could see his face. Or maybe it was better off that way.

“Why can you -not- see? My fate will never be my own!”

“Why does that even matter?!?” She was getting frustrated now, and really did want to hit him upside the head with a dirty broom. No, she didn’t. (Yes, she did.) “Don’t you get it?” she continued, taking a step in his direction, but stopping after only the first. Forcing down a deep breath, a swallow, she willed herself to calm down. All that Jedi training had to be good for at least something. “I’ll stand by you for as long as it takes…”

“That is precisely the point…” There was a huff, and then his shoulders slumped just as they had back in the shrine. “How long will it take? Years? Decades? Centuries? It is the way of prophesy.” He turned back to face her, but for a split-second, she wished he hadn’t. That look on his face…she never wanted to see it again. For someone who claimed to have no emotions, which she’d never entirely believed to begin with, they were certainly there now.

“It doesn’t- “

 _It doesn't matter._ That was what she was going to say, but the wave of a hand stopped her.

“Everyone of consequence has lived and died and yet I still remain.” One step. Two. Three. “All but you…and in time, even -you- will be ground to dust.” He’d reached the top of the hill again, standing tall above her, his face shadowed in splits and stripes by the leaves blocking out the afternoon sun. “I cannot bear it. You deserve…you deserve more.”

That was it, then. He was afraid. Of being alone. Of watching her grow old and die without him. She wasn’t sure if it was good news or bad…or both? He cared, and that was what she chose to focus on.

“What I deserve…” she started, a smile threatening to break out at the side of her lip as she considered her next words. They had to be perfect. She didn’t want to chase him away again. “ _Is you_ …”

Anything could have been going through his head at that moment. The mask had slipped back into place, and all Raz could see were his eyes. They stared down at her, through her…eating her alive.

She barely even registered the movement, his or hers, but somehow, she found herself backed firmly up against a tree trunk. The tips of either lek brushed over the tops of her thighs, dipping past their normal length because of his close proximity. He was so tall, and he was so close, she practically had to look straight up to see anything other than the wide expanse of his chest.

When did that happen?

Who the fuck cared?

His gaze shifted, down and to the side, down to her hip. It was almost like watching a holovid, one they both starred in, where they were both captivated by the entire process of his hand reaching out, grabbing for her. She wore the same flowing robes of blue and white, and they were easy to bypass, as loose as they were.

She knew he could feel enough to register a primal sense of touch…pain, enough to prevent bodily injury. But, that was where it ended…he couldn’t feel how soft her skin was or wasn’t, he couldn’t feel the warmth beneath the pads of his fingertips, and there was nothing delicate about the way he held her in his grasp. His fingers dug into her side, each tipped with an almost claw-like nail, blunt and rounded, but still sharp enough to bite into her skin. Even so, she could not have cared less. He knew he was touching her, and that was what mattered.

Any amount of pain was worth it. She might have also liked it. Just a little. (More than a little.)

The hand guided her closer, pulling her up on her tip-toes to meet him halfway, urging her to wrap her arms around his neck for support. If he was asking, she was more than willing. She’d jump into his damned lap if she could, but this was his show. She knew things could only go so far, but she would take anything he could give. Or would give. It was his turn to move that ever-changing invisible line.

A sudden shove up against the tree pushed the air clean out of her lungs, a surprised little mewl to be swallowed by the movement of his mouth over hers. It wasn’t the first time their lips had touched, nor was it the second, and it was no less awkward, but the intensity of it was…miles above. And the heat. It had never felt this way before, that level of intimacy.

Sighing through her nose, she opened herself up to…everything, and he did his best to follow her lead. His kiss was clumsy, overly wet, like that of a teenager, but again, she didn’t care. It wasn’t his fault. Three hundred years was a long time to be out of practice, not to mention she had no idea how much he could actually feel, or if he was even enjoying it. Perhaps it would get easier over time.

She palmed the back of his hairless scalp, pulling him down just as he pulled her up, her lekku worming their way around them in a bid for more contact. Together, their center of gravity wavered, and they likely would have ended up on the ground in a tangled heap of blue, white, and red if it weren’t for his quick grab at a particularly low-hanging branch.

Their teeth clacked together from the movement, and before long, the metallic twinge of her own blood managed to drown out the smoky-sweet temple incense that had soaked into everything, clothing and skin alike. They had a few things to practice on, for sure. Taking the excuse to catch her breath, she moved her head to the side, breaking the kiss. Scourge pulled back, his gaze flicking to the small trickle of blood that had run down over her chin, and for a few pounding heartbeats, it seemed that time had stopped again. This was going to go one of two ways. Good…or very bad.

She didn’t want to give him any reason to pull away. To think he’d hurt her. Or that she didn’t like it. That couldn't have been further from the truth. In a last-ditch, and rather slow-motion attempt to keep him there with her and in the moment, she slipped the tip of her tongue out from between parted lips, gathering what little blood had collected from the corner of her mouth. It worked. Red eyes narrowed, watching the movement with a hunger she hoped to see many times to come, throwing any doubts she had out the window.

It shouldn’t have been possible to be shoved up against the tree any harder, but she was apparently wrong in that assumption. The branch above creaked and groaned, protesting under the weight of his hold. He was using it as an anchor. For their combined weight. For everything. Like a dam holding back a great flood.

“I would give anything to be able to taste you…if only once… _wo’mielis ja’ti_.” Hot breaths tickled at her neck, replaced with the light threat of teeth, tempting her in the worst of ways. She had no idea what that last bit meant, and frankly, she really didn't care. It sounded pretty, there was that, but her mind was quickly losing focus to something much more important. Lips. A pointed tongue. More teeth, all working together, blazing a path back up to her mouth. And despite any awkwardness, her body was starting to respond. It didn't care either. 

Just how far was this going to go? Where -could- it go? Probably to a very cold shower...

There was another groan from above, and then a solid crack as the tree branch came away in Scourge's hand. It was symbolic, of sorts. A wake-up call they couldn’t ignore.

But at least there was still hope. Hope riding on the back of a Mystic's dream. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sith Language translations - 
> 
> _Medzi’oksh nun_ \- Leave me.  
>  _Wo’mielis ja’ti_ \- My darling one.
> 
> This story is part of [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors.  
> This author invites:
> 
> Short comments  
> Long comments  
> Questions  
> Constructive criticism  
> “<3” as extra kudos  
> Reader-reader interaction
> 
> This author replies to comments.


	6. Oasis (Malavai Quinn/Akori'ira, Pierce/Akori'ira)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was originally posted on Tumblr, but I wanted to get it added here in the fear of my blog being deleted. Post-Quinncident.
> 
> Accompanying song - "Oasis" by Tarja

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/130044876@N04/42914024921/in/photostream/)

Kaas City, Dromund Kaas - Akori'ira

Sleep was…elusive. Sleep was always elusive these days, it seemed, slipping through her fingers like the finest of silks. Hard to grasp. Even harder to hold onto. Mason had passed out hours ago, the lucky bastard, leaving her to fend for herself against her own private worst enemy. Her mind. She felt lost, cast adrift in a sea of uncertainty. 

But she had to be strong. 

Kira padded across the cool floor tiles, picking her way through various articles of clothing, each one tossed carelessly aside in the heat of the moment. Moments. Multiple moments. A single shoe, the other nowhere to be found. A giant-sized tuxedo jacket thrown over the back of a chair. A stiff formal shirt, practically in tatters and most certainly missing almost all of its buttons. 

She had to keep busy. That was how her mind worked. Sex. Fighting. More sex. More fighting. Sometimes consecutively, or sometimes even concurrently…and everything in-between. Thankfully Mason was like a machine when it came to all of the above. But it was the quiet hours that were difficult. When even the machine needed to refuel and she failed to join him in sweet, dead-to-the-galaxy oblivion. 

But the morning sun was shining. There was that. It couldn’t rain -all- the time on Dromund Kaas, though the bright spots of shining daylight were far and few between. Throwing open the balcony doors, Kira inhaled a deep breath, filling her lungs with the breezy, sweet scents of dampened earth and renewal. She closed her eyes to the sunlight, letting the all-too-rare warmth soak into her skin.

Maybe it was a sign.

Or not.

She turned, her gaze falling to a sleek, black piano looming in the center of the room, and her heart sank. It was a giant, overly heavy reminder of a past life, one she didn’t want to remember, one she needed to excise from her body like a festering wound. But she could and would never be able to bring herself to get rid of that piano. 

The keys slid beneath her fingers, cool to the touch, missing the man who knew them better than any lover. They wanted nothing to do with her clumsy attempts to put them to song, but they had sung whole symphonies for their true master.

A stabbing pain jabbed through her chest at the memories flooding unwelcome into her treacherous mind, and for a moment she wanted nothing more than to scream bloody murder at the rather inanimate object. As if it would answer her. Tell her why. But it never would.

_Because Malavai wasn’t there._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accompanying artwork by me


	7. Sibling Rivalry (Pierce & Scourge)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was originally posted on Tumblr, but I wanted to get it added here in the fear of my blog being deleted.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/130044876@N04/31738198828/in/dateposted/)

Wilds, Taris - Pierce

Pierce leaned back against the crumbling duracrete, his helmet tucked securely into the crook of one arm. The tunnel beneath the ruined city was cool, out of the blinding daylight sun, and he had to admit, it was nice to take a break and let the wafting breeze dry the beads of sweat that had been rolling down his face for the past hour or so. Even if the air did smell like a decades-old, stale fart. Bloody rakghouls.

They were at it. Again. The sisters. When one would say the sky was blue, the other would insist on green simply to disagree. One would want up, the other would choose down. It had been years since the two Twi’lek had discovered their shared parentage, and in that time it felt like they hadn’t been able to come together on a single point of contention. 

Was that how siblings worked? 

“Their bickering is going to bring every rakghoul within a two kilometer radius down on our heads.” The heavily-armored Pureblood paced nearby, his gait fluid, like a charged current, ready to pounce at any moment despite his overbearing size. “We should move.”

He was right. Judging by the smell, the tunnel was frequented by the planet’s mutated inhabitants. A lot of them. And often. But, lightsabers had been drawn. The twin sisters circled, faces glowing in the dimly lit corridor, one red, one white, each searching for a crack in the other’s defenses. 

Their little party wouldn’t be going anywhere until whatever it was they’d disagreed on (again) was resolved. 

“Care to make a wager, m’lord?” They may have been a long way away from the Empire, but old habits died hard, and the honorific had stuck. 

“Games of chance are for the weak-minded.” 

Even from within the Alliance, Sith and Imperials alike gave the large Pureblood an exceedingly wide berth. After all, Scourge had carried the title of Wrath for far longer than Kira, and the man’s reputation preceded him, most of the time right into seclusion. Or perhaps exclusion was a better term. Most went out of their way to avoid him altogether. 

Yet Pierce found himself in an interesting position. Having first-hand experience with high-ranking Sith, intimate first-hand experience, he didn’t carry the same fears and overwhelming levels of babbling idiocy when around them. Well, at least some of them. In private. Cytharat. Lu. Scourge. They were his allies, and with all the blood they’d shed together, he would have liked to think of them as friends. And Kira, well…

“So you’re just afraid of losing, then. Very well.  _M’lord_.” He kicked his heel against the wall, the side of his boot clattering against his favorite blaster rifle as it leaned on his thigh. 

Or he was just a bloody cock-up with no sense of self-preservation. 

“You’re either very brave, or very foolish… _Major_.” The Pureblood’s pace slowed to a halt, red eyes narrowing as he crossed his arms tightly over his chest, and for a split second, Pierce thought he might have been gearing up to follow through with the implied threat. 

“I’d say a bit of both. Have you met my wife?” 

Turning his gaze to the two Twi’lek, still circling each other like puffed-up manka cats with lightsabers at the ready, Scourge smiled, the slightest crook of the lip cracking across his severe features, and a low rumble of laughter vibrated through the air between them. “I suppose I could ask you the same. And I believe I will take you up on that bet.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accompanying artwork by me


End file.
